


Science Fair Blues

by the_genderman



Series: My 2018 MCU Kink Bingo Fics [25]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Fluff, Gen, Homework, Science, Steve rogers is Dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 18:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: A fluffy little high school AU and a not very kinky prompt fill for the Kink Bingo square “Characters Are a Punk and a Nerd.” And we know who fitsthatdescriptor.Steve’s freshman science class has been given a mandatory Science Fair project assignment, and he’s none too happy. He’s in the arts magnet program, not the STEM magnet; that’s Bucky’s realm.





	Science Fair Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm really awful about replying to comments, but please know that I appreciate each and every one of them.
> 
> Also, this is “inspired by a true story” of my actual 8th grade science fair project, except tweaked to fit the characters at hand, and that the squirrels ate all but one of my tomatoes. And I was up until 2 am finishing my paper. That was when I first started to learn to like coffee.

“Why did I let you talk me into taking my General Science class with Ms. Pindar?” Steve asks Bucky as they walk home from school. Steve kicks a rock and shifts his backpack.

“‘Cause she’s a good teacher?” Bucky replies. “I liked her class. And we’re barely a month into the semester, you probably haven’t even had your first exam yet.”

“No, but she’s making us all do mandatory school Science Fair projects. _Mandatory_!” Steve bemoans.

“It’s good for you,” Bucky shrugs.

“Yeah, but you _like_ that kind of stuff,” Steve grumbles in reply. 

“I thought you liked learning that kind of stuff, too?” Bucky asked, eyeing Steve suspiciously. “That’s why I said you’d like Ms. Pindar’s class.”

“Yeah, I like the reading, I like the facts, stuff like that. I’m not good at designing experiments and those things. That’s nerd stuff.”

“And you’re not a nerd?” Bucky laughs.

“Art punk, yes. Geek, maybe. Perhaps even a dork. But no, I am not a nerd. Get your taxonomy right,” Steve counters.

“I dunno, taxonomy sounds pretty nerdy to me. But if you need help figuring out a project, I could probably help you out with that,” Bucky muses, already thinking of some possible ideas.

“Yes, _please_ ,” Steve replies heartily.

\-----------------------

“Well, what about plants?” Bucky asks, flipping through last year’s Science Fair program he managed to find stashed away in his mom’s ‘Box o’ School Papers.’ “You like plants.”

“Yeah, but what am I gonna do with that?” Steve replies, absently kicking his feet as he lies on his stomach on Bucky’s family’s living room floor. Bucky’s sitting cross-legged next to him, occasionally tossing out suggestions that Steve politely declines. Sure, they’re probably good suggestions, but they’re not up Steve’s alley. He’s much more into art projects and debate club, not designing and carrying out measured experiments.

“I dunno, what kind of plants do you have? The plant you use could suggest what to test for,” Bucky tosses out. “I can _help_ , but I can’t design your whole project for you.”

“Well,” Steve ponders. “We do have some tomato seeds mom was hoping to add to our garden plot this spring. I suppose I could start them early. We’ve got a grow lamp and a good sunny window, and tomatoes don’t do too badly indoors.”

“Alright, that’s a good start,” Bucky says, gently encouraging. “So, tomatoes. What could you test for using tomatoes?”

“Maybe how many tomatoes each plant’ll grow with different fertilizers?” Steve asks the room.

Bucky makes a doubtful noise.

“What’s wrong with that?” Steve turns and asks.

“How long does a tomato plant take to make tomatoes?” Bucky replies. “Isn’t it something like three months?”

“Oh.” Steve deflates a little.

“But that’s not a bad start,” Bucky encourages. “Think about what else you could test.”

“Plant size? How well they grow in different media? There’s so many different varieties of potting media out there,” Steve says, mentally ticking off options. “Oh, and hydroponic, too. I’ve always been curious about hydroponics.”

“There ya go, that’s a start,” Bucky says, standing up and stretching. “Now write that down, start planning things out, decide what variable—what condition—you’re going to change, and make your hypothesis.”

“Alright, but where are you going?” Steve asks.

“To get a drink,” Bucky tosses back. “I’ve been sitting on this floor for _hours_ and I’m thirsty.”

\---------------------

_Question: Which growing media will ~~grow the tallest~~ promote the best plant growth_, Steve writes on a fresh page of a college-ruled notebook. It’s a bit old-school, but maybe it’s the artist in him. This rough draft is like a sketch, so it feels right for him to be putting it on physical media. He’ll type the final copy up all nice, but for now, he’s just tossing ideas and phrases out there.

 _Variables: Hydroponics. Soilless potting media. Potting soil. Dirt ~~surreptitiously removed~~ from my building’s front lawn._ Steve would love to find a more scientific way of stating that last one, but he’s coming up with blanks. So it stays.

 _Theory: Soilless potting media will promote optimal growth. The media is designed to not compact when watered, allowing for better root growth which in turn will allow the plant absorb more nutrients and to grow taller._ That sounds nicely sciency. He may not be a true nerd like Bucky, but he can fake it when he tries.

And now, to wait. The seedlings are sprouting nicely in their tray in the window. He only needs four plants, but he’s got plenty to choose from. This way he can pick the four that look most alike. Or if any of the seedling die, he’s not stuck with too few plants for his test conditions. He’s pretty good with plants, but sometimes things just don’t go your way and he likes to be prepared.

\----------------------

It’s a good thing the Science Fair assignment was announced pretty early in the semester, Steve thinks, because these plants take time to grow. Granted, he’s not aiming for producing ripe tomatoes by the time the presentation is due, but still. The bigger the plant, the more impressive it looks, and the better he’ll be able to show off the differences in the growing media. He only transplanted his plants a couple weeks ago, but he thinks he can already see a difference in how each of them is doing.

Maybe this whole ‘design, conduct, and present an experiment’ deal isn’t as big of a hurdle as he had been making it out to be. The plants grow themselves, all he has to do is fertilize them appropriately and take photos and measurements occasionally. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

\------------------------

Steve’s got a nagging feeling that there might be something he’s forgetting, but every time he looks over his plants, makes his notes on watering and fertilizing schedules, and checks his periodic plant photos (with a yardstick for proper, scientific scale), he can’t find what’s bothering him. He seems to have plenty of data, and the plants are behaving admirably. Eh, probably just general school anxiety.

\---------------------------

It’s 10:13 am on a Sunday morning when Bucky’s phone rings, waking him up from a solid sleep. It’s Steve’s ringtone. Which is unusual, because Steve normally texts instead of calls, and because he knows darn well that Sunday mornings are sacrosanct sleeping-in time for Bucky. He blearily swipes at the answer call button.

“Hello?” Bucky mumbles.

“You weren’t answering your texts, so I had to call,” Steve says, his words rapid. He doesn’t even say ‘hello’ first. He’s worked up about something.

“Slow down, I’m not awake yet,” Bucky says, dragging himself into a sitting position and fumbling his glasses on, trying not to stab himself in the eye. He’s getting a distinct feeling that he’s not gonna get the time to put his contacts in today. This is sounding more and more like a Steve Emergency™.

“I remembered what I was forgetting,” Steve says. “Our Science Fair projects are due tomorrow and I haven’t put my report, presentation, anything together yet. I was so caught up in making sure the plants were growing well and keeping up with my other classes that the _due date_ completely slipped my mind, you gotta help me! I mean, I have hand-written notes, but I don’t have anything typed up and ready to turn in. I don’t have to take my plants with me, do I? I can’t haul four tomato plants, one of which is living in a bowl of water with a bunch of aquarium pebbles—”

“No, Steve, you don’t have to bring your plants in. Do you at least have your trifold board for the presentation display?” Bucky asks, climbing out of bed and grabbing some clothes at random off of The Chair. 

“Yeah, I got that a couple weeks ago. Haven’t put anything on it yet,” Steve replies. “Briefly considered painting it, but didn’t.”

“Alright, so that’s the biggest thing you’ll need. I’m sure you’ve got tape and other stuff like that. You can hook your phone up to your printer to get your photos off it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Good,” Bucky says. “Start printing them off. I’m gonna grab some Starbucks on my way over, but I’ll see you soon. Bye for now.”

Bucky hangs up the phone, grabs a bagel, lets his parents know he’s heading over to Steve’s to avert a minor homework crisis (his mom just nods and tells him to say hi to Sarah for her. She likes Steve, but she also understands that he can get worked up about things. It’s nice that her son can be such a calming influence on him), and heads out the front door.

\------------------------

Bucky’s barely had a chance to knock before Steve’s flinging the door open and dragging him inside. Bucky manages to save both his venti iced white chocolate mocha (half-finished) and Steve’s grande chai latte from spilling as he stumbles into the Rogers’ apartment. He hands the chai to Steve and gives him a dirty look.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you caffeine, and, whatever you do, don’t spill mine. I need my coffee if I’m gonna get through this,” Bucky growls jokingly.

“Look, if you can talk me down-slash-through this thing, I will buy you a Starbucks gift card,” Steve says, pulling Bucky into the living room, where Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, typing something on her laptop, surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam of Steve’s project panic.

“Hi, Mrs. Rogers. My mom says hi, too,” Bucky says and gives her a wave. She waves back with a slightly distracted smile.

“Mom would’ve helped me, but she’s got to leave for a meeting in like five minutes,” Steve explains and clears a spot for Bucky to sit down on the carpet.

“You’ll do fine, Stevie, I know you will, but I hope you realize this is why I keep telling you to write things down. I know your memory is usually very good, but having dates and other important information written down and accessible is a good habit to get into,” Mrs. Rogers explains, closing her laptop and picking her way across the room to get her laptop bag and coat.

“But _moooom_ ,” Steve whines.

“As long as you learn from this, it’ll be a success, no matter what. But I’m also confident that by the time I get back home, you’ll have this put together in an, if not polished, at least coherent form. You’re better at strategizing and coordinating than you give yourself credit for,” she answers. “And Bucky, if you’re still here when I get back, you’re officially invited over for dinner as thanks for helping Steve out. But don’t forget to check with your parents first.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rogers, I will,” Bucky nods.

The door closes quietly behind Steve’s mom, and Steve flops onto his side on the floor. He gives a dramatic sigh.

“Ok, first things first,” Bucky says, looking around at the scattering of printed plant pictures, “you have to look over these and pick the best ones to go on your board—don’t forget to leave room for text boxes, it can’t be just pictures. I’m leaving the design part to you because it’s kind of like planning out a drawing or painting, and I know you’re really good at that. I’m going to look at your plants, then read over your notes and the rough draft of your paper— _if_ you have one started—alright?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Notes are here,” Steve says, sitting up and handing a one-subject notebook to Bucky. He’s quickly moving out of Drama Queen Mode and into Planning Mode. “I don’t have a draft yet, but once I get the board put together and the data crunched, I bet that’ll be pretty easy to do.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bucky says and begins to read over Steve’s plant notes.

Steve hums quietly, a little off key, to himself as he sips his tea and lays out photos on the trifold board, trying to find the best layout. Bucky finishes skimming the notes, gives a little smile, and turns to the plants. They’re good-looking plants. They all look like they’re growing pretty well, but one of them is noticeably taller and has a few little flower buds already. The hydroponic one seems to have decided to grow outwards rather than as much upwards, getting bushy instead. He’s curious; he’ll have to ask Steve later why it’s doing that. Right now, there’s a report to be written. And despite the panic of the late hour, he doesn’t think Steve’s doing too badly. His notes are good, he’s collected good data, and he should be able to put together a short presentation of his findings.

“There. How’s that look?” Steve holds up the trifold board for Bucky to see. He’s got a selection of plant photos in different stages of growth, from seedling to current, laid out nicely across the board. He’s put faint pencil X’s where he plans to put the text to describe each photo, and the title sketched out in large letters across the top of the middle section. 

“I like it. Might need a little more color, but I like it,” Bucky says with a nod. “Good layout, I can follow it easily.”

“I was gonna put green borders around the text,” Steve replies. “Draws the eye in, but isn’t too distracting.”

“Yeah, like that,” Bucky agrees. He hands the notebook back to Steve. “But first, you gotta write this report. Finish your tea and get typing.”

Steve gives a theatrical groan, but Bucky watches him open up Word on his laptop, flip through his notes, and start typing. Bucky takes a seat on the couch, connects his phone to the Rogers’ Wi-Fi, and starts browsing Instagram. Every so often he sends his mom another text to let her know he’s still helping Steve with homework, and checks up on Steve, who seems to have moved into Focus Mode. It won’t be a quick write, Bucky knows from experience, but it’s gotta get done. And there isn’t much he can do for the report part except offer moral support and keep Steve on track.

\------------------

When Mrs. Rogers arrives back home, Steve’s typing industriously away at his report. Bucky’s fielding the occasional question from the couch. He’s thumbing through something on his phone and he’s got a look about him; bored, but unwilling to admit it for Steve’s sake. She gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and asks Bucky if he’s let his parents know about the dinner invitation yet. He sits up straighter, admits that no, he hasn’t yet. He pokes at his phone a bit more and is soon speaking to a parent, asking if it’s ok to have dinner at Steve’s house, he knows it’s kind of late notice, but Mrs. Rogers says he’s invited over for helping Steve, and it’s ok? Thank you, and he’ll be back before curfew, promise. He hangs up the call and asks if there’s anything he can help out with for dinner. Mrs. Rogers thinks she can find a thing or two for him to do, if he wants.

\----------------------

Nine and a half hours after Steve’s initial phone call, and his science fair project appears to be about as done as it’s going to be. Conclusions have been reached, the board is all put together, and the report has been printed and stapled together. Dinner had been eaten, dishes washed, and Steve’s given a practice presentation of his data. He feels pretty proud that his theory has been borne out by evidence. The tomato plant in the soilless potting media has in fact grown taller than any of its peers. He’s judging by height; the hydroponic plant just had to be weird and grow _out_. He’s not quite sure why. Eh, that’s something for later.

“Thanks so much for your help, I don’t know what I’d’ve done otherwise,” Steve says to Bucky. “Probably panicked and forgot how to write a science report.”

“You’d’ve figured something out, even without me,” Bucky says, patting Steve on the shoulder. “You may deny your inner nerd, but it’s in there. I know it is. You’re gonna do great on your presentation. You wrote a good report.”

With that, they say their goodbyes for the night, and Steve watches Bucky head out the door. He’s lucky to have Bucky as a friend, Steve thinks to himself.

\-----------------------

“So? How’d it go?” Bucky asks, catching up with Steve so they can walk home together.

“The presentation went pretty well,” Steve says. “I mean, I didn’t have the flashiest project out there, but I think it was solid. I did what I said I was going to do, and got results. And I think the debate club experience helped with the questions. I didn’t freeze up or anything.”

“Good, good,” Bucky replies. “And the report?”

“Oh come on, I just turned it in today, you should know we won’t have those grades back for at least a week.”

“Alright, fine, that’s fair.”

\--------------

Bucky’s text alert pings. He picks up his phone to check the message.

 **Steve** : I got my science fair report back  
 **Bucky** : Grade??????

 **Steve** : B+. She said it was good but sounded a little rushed

 **Bucky** : Wow, rushed? Who would have guessed? XD

 **Bucky** : But seriously, that’s a good grade

 **Steve** : Yeah, I’m happy with it :)

\---------------------

A month later and Bucky’s pretty much forgotten about Steve’s science fair project. Sure, it was a big deal while it was happening, but it’s over and done with, and there’s plenty more schoolwork to focus on. So, yeah, it’s a bit of a surprise when he opens the front door of his apartment and finds a basket of about a dozen big, red tomatoes sitting on the doormat. There’s a card tucked in among the fruits.

_I know they won’t taste as good as summer tomatoes, but my plants made these and I wanted you to have some. –Steve ___

__Bucky smiles. That’s a very Steve thing to do. He picks up the basket and carries it into the kitchen._ _


End file.
